What I Meant To Say— By Leslie Meyer

What I Meant To Say

By Leslie Meyer



What I meant to say was wittier, more pithy, sardonic and wry. What I meant to say in a few well-chosen yet eloquent words would have seared you, would have once and for all cauterized your obstinate and fear-guided brain and allowed some common sense to flow into what is left of your scarred and damaged heart.



What I meant to say rivaled any pleading sonnet penned in Shakespeare’s darkest hour, trampled Shelley’s tender and revolutionary words underfoot, made light the pleas and pains of Plath, muffled the thunderous peal of bell hooks’ love as I named and proclaimed the power of our love and what love you would lose, what depths of passion yet unplumbed, of delightful, delicate and desirable words yet unspoken, of adventures mundane and marvelous yet unclaimed.



What I meant to say was that you are a fool to turn your face away from mine, to turn your back on the years we had, those three little years that I thought (or did I just imagine) were a foundation, I thought, necessary for building a strong life not ordinary, a life extraordinary by any measure, but not, apparently and obviously, by any means.



What I meant to say leaked out in tears you could not see as stunned I held the phone to my ear; your reasons and excuses from three thousand miles away pouring ice into my veins, immobilizing me, freezing the fire I felt for you into an icy flame trapped inside my gut, and paralyzed, I could not reply when you said,




About bbcstudiowrites

This blog is me archiving the BBC Studio Writers Workshop.

Posted on October 8, 2013, in Fiction, Seattle, Short Stories. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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